


Crash Landing

by Prismatic Bell (Nina_Dances_In_Technicolor)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: How Do I Tag, One Shot, Other, Pre-ship?, Slice of Life, and other things only one letter off from decks, both these boys are in trouble because of decks, puppyshipping - Freeform, sure let's go with that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-12-26 11:48:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12058377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nina_Dances_In_Technicolor/pseuds/Prismatic%20Bell
Summary: Two men aimed for the stars. Both landed, not the way they meant to.





	Crash Landing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OperaGoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OperaGoose/gifts).



> I was trawling the prideshipping tag one night and saw something by OperaGoose, who said they'd written some pride because they were feeling very strongly about puppy becoming a third wheel to pride and it was bumming them out. Given that I see most puppy as a ship with huge and often wasted potential ( _how_ can you look at Kaiba and Jyonouchi and go "yes, these characters will work perfectly in a tensionless coffee shop AU"), I felt like I had to do something about that.
> 
> So: from the prideshippers, with love, this is for you. <3
> 
> Recommended playlist:
> 
>  _Warriors,_ by Imagine Dragons  
>  _Princes of the Universe,_ by Queen  
>  _Perfect,_ by Alanis Morrisette

“Meet your new regional champion, folks, Jyonouchi Katsuya!”

_Well, shit._

It’s not that he _didn’t_ want to become a regional champion. It’s just he didn’t expect it to happen so fucking _fast._

First there was graduation. Then the prefecture-wide tournament, where he placed second, only for the actual champion to get caught in a massive drug bust, which left Jyonouchi to represent Domino in the tournament for Kantō--

\--and now he’s a regional champion. One of eight set to duel in Shibuya in December for the national championship.

Going pro is nowhere near everything it’s cracked up to be, he thinks, jogging out of the arena and back into the maintenance tunnels that lead to the greenroom. Shizuka couldn’t attend because of school, Yuugi and Honda because of work. His mother never responded to his invitation, and his dad--

\--yeah, well, some subjects are better left alone.

There’s a knock at the door. Somebody from security asking if he plans to meet fans. 

_Oh yeah._ That’s a real thing, for a regional champion. He’s probably going to be on television tonight, and not just on local Domino news, either.

“Congratulations.”

Jyonouchi jumps. The one person in Japan he wouldn’t want here can’t possibly actually be. Some kind of law of nature must prohibit it. Or at least some kind god.

But he turns around from the water cooler and no, there’s Seto *Kaiba, wheelchair and all, sitting in the doorway. Jyonouchi goes for something sharp and cutting and witty at once.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

. . . . well, not a bad start, anyway.

“Just because I can’t duel anymore doesn’t mean I can’t watch.” Kaiba shifts in the chair, pulling himself up by both arms and reseating himself. “I wouldn’t have expected a win out of you.” He pauses. “I wouldn’t have expected you at a regional match, either, but here we are.”

“Look, don’t start with me, I don’t give a shit if you’re in a wheelchair, I’ll beat your fucking face in--”

“I’m just saying people who base their decks entirely around gambling don’t get that far. Neither do people with skin as thin as yours.” He looks exhausted, Jyonouchi realizes. There’s only one elevator in this building, and it’s on the far side of the arena. He probably had to get down here on his own. “So. Are you going to see all your adoring fans? Because just a bit of personal advice, they love you when you’re on top and the minute you hit a rough patch they don’t know you’re alive. Don’t invest any more of yourself than you’re willing to give away.”

“Yeah? And how’d that work out for you?” He should walk out. He should leave Kaiba alone down here in a room he probably utilized himself for duel prep, a few years ago. That would be fitting revenge.

Instead he waits for Kaiba to answer him, and that’s the problem, isn’t it? Always hoping he’ll leave the asshole speechless when it’s never going to happen?

“Worth it.”

Jyonouchi blinks at him. He didn’t follow the media reports on Kaiba’s recovery on purpose, but he’s the biggest employer in Domino and a massive force in the dueling world, it’d be harder to miss the story than to hear it. Kaiba will never walk again. Kaiba, in fact, is lucky to have legs left. 

He’s also lucky to have a job left, all things told. Jyonouchi isn’t sure who first put it out on the newswire that Kaiba was queer. The only thing he’s sure of is that Kaiba didn’t deny it, and now Kaiba is part of R&D and Mokuba is the one running KaibaCorp, at least on paper. It’s been a bad summer to be Seto Kaiba, and hearing him say everything was worth it is--

\--it’s the last thing Jyonouchi would have expected, is what it is.

“Yeah, well, you know how I feel, then. It’s worth it. I may not have ten thousand cards, but I’ve got a championship.” And an apartment with an absolutely stunning view of an industrial dock, but it’s home. And it’s not possible to collect ten thousand different cards, anyway. There aren’t ten thousand different cards in print. About 3500, actually, according to the last issue of Duelists’ Monthly sitting in Jyonouchi’s bathroom. He looked it up. Not on purpose. 

He brushes past Kaiba’s wheelchair, for once ready to leave before he gives Kaiba another opening, and then a hand closes on his wrist and he stops. Kaiba’s grip is soft, and he’s not sure if he’s being gently detained or if the crash actually injured Kaiba that badly. And anyway it’s not his job to care.

“I’m supposed to give you a message.”

“Save your message.”

“It’s from him.”

It’s probably a trap, is what it is. One last chance to turn the knife. Kaiba loves that kind of thing.

“Yeah?” And fuck that too, curiosity constantly overriding common sense, but he has to know.

“He told me, if I saw you, to tell you he believes in you. That you should remember Battle City and never doubt your own merits.” Kaiba pauses. “You loved him, didn’t you?”

“He believed in me when nobody else did.” And he’s not going to fucking cry like a girl, not here, not now. “Yeah, I did. Probably not the way you’re thinking. But if anybody should’ve been in that arena today it was him.”

“So now you’re a regional champion and a psychic. Impressive.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“It’s how I’ve stayed alive this long.” He raises one eyebrow, a look that’s probably supposed to be wry but comes off exhausted instead.

“I’m pretty sure you’ve stayed alive this long because your kid brother had you on lock as soon as you got back to this dimension and a lot of really smart people with medical degrees went running to save your sorry ass.”

“‘My sorry ass’ told the ocean to get the fuck out of my way if it wanted to live.”

 _Holy shit, that was a joke._ And not a bad one, actually. Morbid, yeah, but if anyone’s entitled to morbid humor it’s probably the guy who told death itself to fuck off and went tearing off to another dimension to be sure it got the message. Jyonouchi snorts. Then he takes another, closer look at Kaiba’s face.

“You want some water?”

A pause.

“If you wouldn’t mind.” Another pause as Jyonouchi fills one of the small plastic glasses. “And then you should go, if you’re going. People are going to start wondering what the hell you’re doing down here with me.”

Not his job to care. Not his job to care. Not his job to--

\--flop his ass down on the sofa and grab one of the energy bars off the table, but here he is, and if nothing else today he’ll have the satisfaction of Seto Kaiba staring wide-eyed at him like he’s just announced a plan to personally dominate the world via the Millennium Eye.

“Let ‘em wonder, then.” He holds up the energy bar. “Want one?”

“You do realize you’ve _just_ started building a national reputation.”

“I’d rather have a reputation as somebody who hangs out with weird people than a reputation as a jackass.”

Kaiba stares. Then he reaches behind himself and grabs one of the wheelchair handles, and lifts.

 _What the hell?_ And then it slides out of the hinge it’s attached to, and--

“ . . . you. Built arm braces. Into your wheelchair.”

“Yep.”

“You can’t walk.”

“Nope.” Kaiba settles both braces on the floor in front of him and sets the brake on the chair. Then he leans his weight forward onto the braces and lifts himself with his arms. “Yet.”

Jyonouchi scrambles off the sofa. “Have you lost your fucking _min--_ Kaiba! What the hell!”

Dragging himself by the braces worked for about two steps, Jyonouchi observes, which is two steps more than anybody expected him to ever be able to take again, but then one of them came down on the corner instead of flat and it’s only Jyonouchi’s own good grace and reflexes keeping Kaiba off the floor, one arm around his waist and another in what’s got to be an incredibly uncomfortable hold on his armpit. He considers dumping Kaiba back in the wheelchair before pivoting and dropping him on the sofa, instead. “Okay. Taking that question back. I _know_ you’ve lost your fucking mind.”

“There are a thousand idiots saying I can’t while I’m busy doing it.” Kaiba closes his eyes. There’s sweat on his forehead. “I’ll trouble you for that bar.”

Jyonouchi pulls one out of the snack basket and hands it over. “What’re you really doing down here?”

“I told you already.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe me or don’t believe me. I don’t give a shit.”

“You dragged your ass all the way here from Domino for two sentences when you could’ve, I dunno, picked up a phone?”

“I wanted to see for myself.” Kaiba opens his eyes. He looks bizarrely sane for a man who sent himself on a suicide mission three months ago. “And he told me you’d be here alone, when I was on my way back. It never bothered me, but the circuit eats people alive. You end up surrounded by people who cracked under the pressure and spend all their time drunk or high. Or fifteen years old letting somebody take a picture of them giving head because there’s nobody there to say no. The pro circuit is fucking insane. All of it. Even the parts that look sane from the inside are totally out of control when you take a step back and look at them with some perspective.”

And there it is, the reason Kaiba is out and Mokuba is in. No wonder everybody said they had proof and nobody wanted to print it. “So you came here instead of watching it on TV because . . . . ?”

Kaiba closes his eyes and rests his head against the back of the sofa. “Television shows you what it wants you to see. Stop looking at me like I’m insane. You know it’s true. Every duel you’ve ever seen on television is dramatic angles and voiceover analysis. You don’t see the guy on top sweating because he’s about to have his ass kicked. Or the plays leading up to a big combo. All you see is when the underdog hits the top. When a duel is televised the reality is what the editor decides looks good. I prefer making up my own mind.”

“So what’d you think?”

“Are you actually asking, or are you out of things to say?”

“Let’s say I’m really asking.” Probably a bad idea, but they’ve never had a civil conversation longer than two sentences before. Fuck curiosity.

“I think if you don’t get a couple of effect-destruction traps in your deck you’re going to get shredded in Shibuya. Mirror Force, Mystical Space Typhoon, people on the national level are brutal. You used to have a Raigeki. Put it back in your deck if you still have it. If you’re really set on running a gamble deck pick up a couple of Second Coin Toss and a Compulsory Evacuation Device. Replace Red-Eyes Metal Dragon with another basic version as backup. Is there a reason you’re staring at me?”

“I--” Plenty, but most of them Kaiba would never understand. “I didn’t expect you to give me advice.”

 

“You asked.”

“Yeah, and the last time I asked you anything you threw my deck at me and called me pathetic.”

Kaiba just looks at him. There’s a lot you can say in a look, Jyonouchi realizes. _Don’t be stupid_ , and also _your point is?_ and possibly also _a stunning observation, as always._

“When I first hit the circuit there was somebody on it named Hiroyuki Kakudou. You’ve never heard of him. He wasn’t even around for an entire season. But he played a deck a lot like yours.”

It’s probably not a compliment. Jyonouchi doesn’t think. He’s not sure. Maybe it is. Maybe everything that’s happened in the last three weeks is a dream. Maybe Kaiba’s finally completely snapped. Maybe--

“Well--thanks. I think.”

“Not going up to see all the people who want to shove their pens in your face?”

“Nah.” Jyonouchi balls up the wrapper and tosses it at the trashcan. It catches on the rim, then floats in. “I mean--I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not this time. Lemme prove I belong here at nationals and then I’ll go.”

Kaiba closes his eyes again. “You spend your whole career trying to prove yourself to other people, you’re not going to amount to shit. Do it because you want to do it. Or don’t, I don’t care. But the only way to succeed in this industry is to decide you’re doing it for yourself.”

“I got family to take care of.”

“You can take care of your family without having your name up on a billboard. Whether you do it for self-aggrandizement or showmanship or because you didn’t research the industry before jumping into it is nothing I give a shit about, but the publicity part of it, that’s all for yourself. Don’t try to fool yourself into thinking otherwise.”

“Look, maybe it don’t matter to you how you get to the top, but to me it does, okay. When I win at Shibuya, I can say I made it. Until then I’m still just trying.” Jyonouchi pulls out his phone and checks the time. Most of the people attending must be gone by now. It’s been half an hour. He stands up.

“You want a hand before I split?”

Kaiba plants the braces on the floor and leans forward. The message couldn’t be clearer: _I don’t need help._ Jyonouchi begs to differ.

“You’re gonna go on your ass again,” he says, and after a second’s pause puts an arm around Kaiba’s waist before he can lose his grip on one of the braces again. Kaiba doesn’t thank him, but also doesn’t knock him away, and when he finally settles back into his chair he accepts Jyonouchi’s assistance in putting the braces away

“Good luck in Shibuya.”

“Thanks.” And it’s not his job to care, but--”You gonna be there?”

“I haven’t missed a national tournament in five years.” 

Jyonouchi supposes he should call Shizuka. His parents probably still won’t show, but she might. Nationals are on a Sunday. Yuugi and Honda might be able to come, too.

But if not--

\--at least one person will be there.


End file.
